


a line rewritten

by JaneScarlett



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, rdficathon prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneScarlett/pseuds/JaneScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had always felt that the lonely cave by the English seaside was his…but on that late July afternoon, there were voices echoing off the stone, a blue Police Box, and two strangers walking on the beach below.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a line rewritten

**Author's Note:**

> written for the rdficaton. Prompt #35: HP crossover (because why not)
> 
> As ever, many thanks to Sarah, Megs and Natalie.

In twelve years, he’d owned so few possessions that he was protective over what he could lay claim to; and so he felt that the lonely cave by the English seaside was _his_. Who else might have climbed down there as often as he had? No one… no one at all. But on that late July afternoon, there were voices echoing off the stone; and Tom Riddle stood, glaring down at those who dared usurp his space.

There were two figures walking cautiously on the beach: a man in a tan jacket with a flash of something blue at his neck, a woman wearing some sort of large hat. Tom was too far away to see their features, but random snatches of conversation wafted up to him, carried on the breeze.

“Did you see where it came down?”

“If I did, sweetie, do you think we’d have been wandering down here for the last two hours?”

“We’ll have to hurry. If we could trace their signal, everyone else can also.”

“I know. Keep looking.”

And moments later: over the muted hiss of the tide hitting the shore was a crash and a splash… and then the low sound of the woman’s laughter.

“You could have told me the rocks weren’t steady, River!”

“There was a reason I wasn’t climbing on them!”

“Yes, well… Tweed takes forever to dry!”

“Don’t exaggerate; you’re damp, not soaked. Anyway, I have more reason to complain than you do. Have you seen what the humidity is doing to my hair?”

“Oh, it always looks like that.”

The figures separated – the woman walking quickly away so that the man had to scramble after her. Tom could hear his babbled apologies (made much less convincing by the laughter in his voice) when suddenly they both stopped.

“Do you see-“

“The light in the cave? Yes.”

“Careful,” said the man, still peering inside as she brushed past him.

“You say that like you don’t know me.” She was already out of sight, only the faint whisper of her voice carrying back on the breeze.

“I _do_ know, which is why I’m saying it...” He sighed, following her; and Tom was left, his jaw clenched as he stared at the empty space where they had been.

He didn’t know who they were or what they were looking for; but he didn’t care. They weren’t just on the beach now; they had intruded into his space, his cave. And he wasn’t the type to share.

Easy to find secure footing as he climbed down, especially as he’d never been afraid of this place. The sheer wall face, the angry waves below… the other children, the ones he had once tricked to join him; oh, _they’d_ been afraid. But promises of hidden sweets and surprises had been enough to force small limbs to move, frail fingers clutching the rocks until they reached the cave; cold and forbidding, no treats in sight. 

Not for them, anyway. The memories of that day still made him smile, humourlessly. The children crying; until a single thought from him had constricted their throats from making those appalling sounds. Their eyes wide in terror as he crouched in front of them, asking them to choose which they preferred? The knife or the snake? Cuts can heal, but bites… well, what if they’re fatal?

Yes, their fright had been wonderful. Heady. He’d slept better for weeks after that, reliving it in his mind like a bedtime story.

Tom dropped the last metre to the ground, managing to land silently and creep inside. It felt different, today. Not as welcoming to him… as though it was already occupied by something that didn’t want him there. But he kept walking; there was indeed a light ahead where usually there was darkness, and voices. The intruders… except not just them? His ears could detect more than two voices. Overlapping conversations, whispers from a dozen voices that made no sense. _Attack_ and _blood_ and _scent of fear_ and _bad place here_ and _please take us home_.

Tom was close enough now to see them. Him standing with his head tilted to the side as he listened, the woman was tapping at a metallic rectangle in her hand; and both of them illuminated by pinpricks of golden light that swooped and danced around their faces like aggressive fireflies.

“We’re here to help,” the man said. “Saw your distress signal, followed the trail. I know you don’t belong here.”

“But then,” Tom said, stepping forward, “neither do you.”

It seemed for a moment that time stopped. The voices ceased their babble, the lights froze in mid-air as the strangers turned slowly toward him.

“Ah… hello? Just passing through,” the man said, holding up his hands. “We’ll be on our way soon enough. Took a detour to help some friends. Well, no, not exactly friends. Strangers… but you know what people say about strangers?”

“They’re unwelcome?” Tom let the faintest smile slide over his face; the one that he gave the students at Hogwarts he particularly detested.

“Only if you’ve something to fear from the unknown.” The woman took a step forward, her smile mirroring his. Polite, but brittle… there was no magic in her gaze, but Tom found himself shaking slightly beneath the look in her eyes. Sharp, appraising; as though she could see into his soul.

“Have you?” she asked softly.

“Have I what?”

“Something to fear.”

“What should I fear?”

“An interesting answer,” the man mused. “The correct one would be: a lot. Only idiots aren’t afraid.”

Tom stared at him. He could feel blood rushing into his cheeks as he bit out: “Are you really calling me an idiot? _Me?_ Have you any idea what I can do to you?”

There was a very long pause as the man and woman looked at each other.

“Well,” said the woman lazily, “despite how terrifying a child can be, I’d have to say… not much. I don’t think you could do much to us at all. Not right now, at least.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, glaring at her. Somehow, uncannily, she’d hit upon the truth. Magic was forbidden to underage wizards during the summer holidays; he couldn’t use the wand that he was running his fingers along in his pocket.

“But this is my cave,” muttered Tom sulkily, finally dropping his gaze. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I don’t think anyone is supposed to be here. And we’re hardly about to steal a cave from you. How,” said the woman, her smile amused now, “would we ever carry that back home?”

“Maybe we start over, forget the threats and accusations of stealing… I’m the Doctor,” the man intruded himself. “This is my wife, Doctor River Song; and you are…”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” breathed the Doctor, grinning. “That’s a brilliant name. Don’t you think so, River?”

“Like something from a story,” said River. It was impossible for Tom to tell if she was making fun of him or not. Her smile was pleasant as she reached over to shake his hand in greeting; and he almost wanted to crunch her fingers in his grip, dig his nails into her palm to see if he could make her yelp in surprise… but quickly, he abandoned that idea. He hadn’t forgotten that look in her eyes, before; as though she didn’t trust him.

So he smiled easily at her and her husband, knowing what they would see. A young boy in threadbare trousers and tattered shirt; pale and dark haired, handsome, charming, even polite.

“May I ask what you’re doing here, sir? It’s a very secluded place to get to, here. And… what are those?” Tom gestured at the gold lights, slowly starting their revolving dance again, darting around the woman. Now that he was closer, he could see that what he’d thought was a large hat from the distance was actually her hair… a mass of blonde curls, rampant around her face. And the smudge of blue at the Doctor’s collar was a bowtie.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. How many people _really_ wore a bowtie with a tweed jacket? Or slim fitting trousers, a little too short to reveal the skinny ankles above his boots. And how many people dressed like River? A scandalously short blue dress barely brushing her knees and dark stockings underneath, a thick leather belt slung around her hips, tall boots snug around her calves.

“Are you wizards?” he blurted out. The Doctor grinned companionably at him.

“Do we look like wizards?”

“Well,” said Tom. “Muggles don’t dress like you two. Your clothes are very…odd.”

“Oi!” The Doctor looked insulted. “I’m the height of fashion!”

“Amy would disagree,” murmured River.

“And you?”

“You’ve got your moments. But I think I’ll still tell Amy that Tom here agrees with her.” She glanced at Tom, her eyes twinkling as though they were sharing a joke. The Doctor grumbled wordlessly for a moment, looking between them.

“No,” he said finally. “We’re not wizards. But we’re not from here… passing through, you could say. Trying to do some good in the world. Make a difference, if we can.”

“Oh.” He managed to stop his disgusted sneer. Suddenly they were less interesting, this strangely dressed couple. They were only Muggles then. Not to mention: peaceful do-gooders. Tom was sure that even if they had found themselves with magic, they’d probably be more of those insufferable Gryffindors.

River was back to tapping relentlessly on that small metal rectangle, and the Doctor stretched his hand out toward the lights, beaming as they frolicked through his fingers, resting briefly on his palm. 

“You little beauties,” he whispered in delight. “Do you know what they are, Tom?”

“No, sir.”

“They’re called Aertzin. Wars are fought over them, the right to own them.”

The Doctor and River might have been boring, but suddenly the fireflies weren’t. Wars, fought for these bits of nothing? Tom paused before reaching his own hand out, trying to seize one from the air; but they evaded him. He tried again and again but they fluttered away each time, circling madly around the Doctor instead.

“They won’t come to me.” He couldn’t help the whiny pout in his voice. Why were they only going to that ridiculously dressed pair of Muggles? Tom longed to reach for his wand, order them to come to him. Hurt them if they wouldn’t… because all he wanted was to see them properly. Why were they avoiding him?

“Aertzin are a very gentle life-form,” answered River. “Yet, very powerful in their own way. The races of the world consider them the ultimate healers… left to their own devices, they can fix anything. Resurrect. Regenerate. And because of that, they’re considered invaluable for their capabilities.”

“But that doesn’t explain why they won’t come to me!”

“Ah.” The Doctor scratched his cheek, glancing at his wife. She shrugged; he sighed.

“They’re empathic,” the Doctor said apologetically. “They can sense who might mean them harm, or approach them with the wrong intentions. I mean, look at them!” He waved a hand toward the Aertzin. “Physically, they’re so small and easy to crush. It’s their way of protecting themselves.”

Irritated, Tom stared at the frantic specks of light. “I never said I’d hurt them.”

“Empathy means _feel_ ,” River said dryly. “I’m sure you understand the distinction.”

“Well, they’re wrong.” Tom shrugged, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had been thinking of hurting them, moments ago. “I only wanted to examine them. We have things like them, I’ve seen them back at my school.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor slowly. “Beings of magic. But the Aertzin… well, they’re not from here.”

“Then where are they from? Another world?” Tom smiled at the thought of that, but the Doctor nodded.

“More like another time; but yes, the idea is similar. Regardless, we’re trying to help them return… well, not home. There’s a war there, over who should gain dominion over them.”

“Because they can heal. Anything, you said… so what’s wrong with people using them for their skills?”  
He felt immediately foolish for asking. The Doctor had a stern look on his face. Almost disapproving.

“The Aertzin work best on their own terms. Like all people, really… the problem comes when those around them get selfish. Not content to let them live in peace making things better; they try to enslave them, force them…”

“And they can’t exist under those conditions; it’s contrary to their natures,” finished River. “They’re dying. This is one of the last families.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor. “Unless we can help them… speaking of? Have you found anything yet?” He glanced at his wife, who flashed him a distracted smile.

“Almost. But there’s some trouble coming in.”

“A trace?”

“Two of them.”

“How close?”

“Five minutes. Maybe less; I can’t be sure.” River frowned, bringing the rectangle closer to her face to read something scrolling across it. Tom couldn’t tell what it said; only that the words moved quickly, the screen lit up like magic.

“We’ll have to move,” River said. “And be ready for an attack.”

“I was hoping to avoid getting involved,” murmured the Doctor.

“Lost cause, sweetie. It is you…”

“Us.”

She raised an eyebrow. “True. And to think you expected something other than being involved…? I hope you’ve got a plan.” Her eyes flickered to Tom and then back again; and the Doctor grinned, reaching out to lightly tap her on the nose.

“In progress.”

“Hmm.” River didn’t sound convinced, but Tom noticed there was a slight smile hovering on her lips as she looked down again at the little screen again, her fingers flying.

“Now,” said the Doctor, turning to Tom. “I was hoping I could ask for your help.”

“My help?” Tom gave a suspicious look at the whirling lights of the Aertzin, who were even now, still avoiding him. “Why would you need my help?”

“Because you’re here,” said the Doctor. “And it’s the right thing to do, to help those who need it.”

Politely, Tom kept quiet; inwardly, he fumed. Why should he care about some specks of light? Why should he help some things that wouldn’t even do _him_ the courtesy of coming close?

“Not everyone who needs help receives it.” It was all he could manage to say. Eleven years at an orphanage -unloved, unwanted- until his internal unhappiness had eventually turned outward in the form of wild childish magic, seeking to punish and destroy. No one had helped _him_ ; and even the past year at Hogwarts hadn’t erased the memories of a life he’d rather forget.

The Doctor shook his head, hazel eyes meeting Tom’s with an expression in them that the boy couldn’t place. It wasn’t pity, though; he would have sensed that, and would have despised the Doctor for it.

“Sometimes,” the Doctor said quietly, “help comes in forms you wouldn’t expect. A deviation from the expected order. A line in your life rewritten… change and hope for the entire world.”

Tom stared blankly back at him. Rewriting a line in someone’s life… a fairy tale idea, but enticing. He thought for a moment, about what he would change in his. His mother not dying; though, stupid Muggle that she must have been, he wasn’t certain he would be any better off. Raised with filth in the orphanage or with her; denying his true self. Finding his father, perhaps. A guide while he was growing up, for the magic that leapt within his mind.

Only one thing was sure: he wouldn’t have given up the last year at Hogwarts, not for anything. The spells, the hexes, the charms… The world of wizardry was the only place he did anything right. The only place where he had ever belonged.

The Doctor kept peering at him, that strange expression in his eyes… but Tom wasn’t certain what to say, and so said nothing as the seconds ticked by until the Doctor sighed, looking away.

“At least I can say I tried,” he muttered to himself. His shoulders sagged as he ran a hand through his fringe. And then he stood up straight again, looking at Tom with a bright, albeit forced, smile.

“Well.” He clapped his hands together, nodding. “If you don’t want to help us, you don’t have to. But River and I are leaving with the Aertzin… and just a warning, but I think you may get some other unexpected visitors to your cave. Err… probably.”

“Definitely,” said River. She was swooping her hands through the air, gently herding the Aertzin into a box that she then closed with a snap.

“So even if you’ve no intention of helping us, I’d suggest you leave.”

Without waiting for a reply, the Doctor swept out of the cave, the box of Aertzin beneath his arm; leaving River to give Tom an enigmatic smile, gesturing him in front of her. He didn’t move, though. Just squinted at the Doctor’s retreating form, then looked at River.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Oh,” River said. “My sweetie; always having faith in humanity, and always devastated when he’s disappointed. He hoped… you’re so young right now, aren’t you? Only about twelve… He really thought you might help us. From curiosity, if nothing more magnanimous.”

“But I don’t see why I should.” Tom crossed his arms, two emotions at war in his mind. Satisfaction that he was not so easily persuaded into acts of pointless heroism; a vague sense of loss that the Doctor had seen through his façade of manners. “I don’t even know the two of you.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“And I don’t have any stake in the war for the Aertzin. Why should I care about their lives? In fact,” said Tom, “I think that no one deserves to live, when they won’t even fight to survive.”

There was a shadow in her eyes as she surveyed him silently. As though she was judging him… as though she, too, was a survivor; but still blaming him for a lack of compassion. He lifted his head proudly, matching her stare for stare, dark eyes staring intently into her wide green ones.

“Part of you knows I’m right,” Tom whispered, reaching his mind out toward her. “Part of _you_ has fought to survive.” It was a trick he’d picked up somewhere; reading thoughts, flipping through memories like pages in a book. He could do it even if people tried to keep him out… but there was something about River that pushed him away?

No, it wasn’t even that. There was a wall around her mind; curved, shining metal like a carnival mirror that didn’t let him in, but instead reflected his own image back at himself. He tried again; same result. One more time then: his hands knotted into fists at his sides as he shoved brutally toward her mind, not caring if the rapport would leave her screaming in pain… and then the reflection of himself twisted, turning into something so distorted and ugly that Tom hastily withdrew; automatically dropping his eyes from hers.

River took a step forward, one finger under his chin to tip his face until he was looking at her again.

“I don’t take kindly to strangers in my head,” she said. Her voice was mild, almost pleasant; and yet utterly terrifying in its calmness.

“But how… Who are you, anyway?” he said, jerking away from her. “What are you? Muggles don’t have any defences when I-“

“I know they don’t,” River interrupted him. “And that makes it twice as wrong, what you tried to do. Just because you have an ability that can hurt people, doesn’t mean you use it.

“Strength comes in different forms: patience, loyalty, courage, compassion. Not just the ability to dominate through fear.” She sighed, her eyes thoughtful. “And it’s worth saying that people survive in different ways, Tom. Loud and flashy, or quiet and understated… entirely alone, or with the help of kindness to give them the courage to try.”

“And how did you survive, then?” He couldn’t help sounding resentful, and she gave him a rueful smile, gesturing once more toward the entrance of the cave. This time he actually went, trying to stay as far from her as possible.

“I chose to let go of the past.” Her words were a whisper behind him, without any other explanation. He didn’t want one, anyway. Choosing to let go… coward’s talk. She wasn’t like him… obviously she couldn’t have survived the neglect and rage that made him strong.

Tom walked faster, if only to get away from her. He could hear the rapid cadences of the Doctor’s voice rising and falling, before he saw his silhouette in the entrance of the cave. And in the end, he didn’t need the warning of River’s hand on his arm to make him stop. There were more voices outside on the beach; rough and angry and guttural.

“You have no rights here. They belong to us.”

“No,” the Doctor corrected the still unseen beings. “They don’t belong to you. And haven’t you realised that they’re dying, with what you’re doing to them? They can’t survive in war… their sensibilities don’t allow them to deal with that.”

“But what they can give us-“

“Oh, you’re from the 50th Century. I don’t condone what you’re doing, I won’t _ever_ ,” his voice was harsh on that last word, “condone it. But you’ve got the ability to adapt technology to suit your means, without needing to hunt the Aertzin.

“Just imagine: nanotech that can heal. Use it in ambulances, if you like. Or for terraforming new worlds for colonization.” The Doctor sounded a strange combination of amused and sad; but Tom was listening to his words, not his tone.

“What did he mean,” he hissed, turning toward River, “by the 50th Century?”

In the darkness of the cave, her eyes glinted at him. “He did tell you that the Aertzin weren’t from here.”

“But… the future?” A strange idea. Hogwarts had never even mentioned the idea of time travel being something they taught; he’d have to think about that later. The implications of what that could mean… a skill that not even normal wizards had…

“For the final time: stand aside.” There was a clicking sound, multiplied ten-fold; and River’s hand closed on Tom’s wrist, pulling him back.

“Stay here,” she commanded. “If you are insistent on not helping, then at least stay out of trouble and don’t get in our way.” She slipped past him, coming up to stand beside the Doctor. He didn’t turn his head to acknowledge her presence; but Tom fancied he could see the change in their silhouettes. Just their small fingers touching, not even their entire hands; but the Doctor’s entire frame seemed to relax with his wife at his side.

“Sorry I’m late,” River announced loudly. “Fascinating discussions; you know how they can hold you up. I see you’ve gotten yourself into a discussion of your own, sweetie?”

“Something like that.” The Doctor turned his head a fraction of an inch. “I’m curious to hear how yours went.”

“Oh, time for that later. I see we’ve got some guests here?”

“We do. They think we should hand over the Aertzin.”

“Do they? And I’m sure you told them that we have no intention of doing that.”

“Well,” said the Doctor. “Of course.”

“And that’s when they drew their weapons?”

“My wife,” said the Doctor, looking back at the people on the beach. “Always right.”

“And quite a good shot, too.”

Tom didn’t even see River move. But she must have; one moment she was standing beside the Doctor, and the next, she was racing outside the cave entrance. He could hear loud hisses and pops from some sort of weapon, there were flashes of green light and the coppery scent of blood in the air; and then nothing could have held him back from moving forward to see what was going on. 

The creatures outside: half of them short and squat, moving relentlessly forward on multiple gnarled tentacle-like limbs; the other half tall and thin, eerily silent and menacing. And all of them were converging upon River, who spun and kicked and fired her gun with deadly accuracy to bring them down. The Doctor hurried in her wake, the box of Aertzin clutched to his side.

Tom squinted down the beach. He could see a box… a blue box with windows and a light on top. It was obvious they were heading there.

And then suddenly, it was equally as obvious that they weren’t going to make it. He saw the Doctor stumble -an accident of footing, perhaps- and the box falling as his arms flailed to regain his balance. The second of delay for him to pick it up again was enough for one of the soldiers to catch him by surprise. There was a sickening _thunk_ as a weapon connected with the back of his head; and then with a whimper, the Doctor fell.

Blood. Blood everywhere, streaming from his skull and streaking down his face. River half-turned to see her husband lying on the ground; and even from where he was, Tom could see her face. Anguish and worry…replaced moments later with a ferocious anger that made him tremble, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“I’ll see you pay for that.” Her words weren’t spoken at much more than a whisper, but they were enough to make her threat terrifying. She was a blur of motion after that. Arms and legs whirling like a dervish, honey-coloured curls whipping above the green flashes of her weapon. There were groans of pain and bodies falling, more and more… Tom’s heart was racing, his eyes wide in something akin to admiration as he watched her. 

Whoever she was – whatever she was – River Song was ruthless. 

But she was also outnumbered.

There were too many, even for her. The soldiers kept coming despite how she was fighting them back; then she dropped, clutching a gaping wound on her thigh. 

It was only then, that he saw it. One of the short ones had discovered the box of the Aertzin. Stubby fingers were closing on the latch, about to open it... and then small golden lights darted out into the air, turning immediately pale and silvery. One by one, they began to flicker out.

In later years, Tom was never sure why he did it. A moment of insanity championing losers, when he knew that if he continued hiding in the cave entrance, the interlopers would eventually leave, and he would continue to be safe. But the images flickered behind his eyes every time he blinked. The Doctor lying prone on the beach, River Song cut down. The Aertzin, souls too gentle to defend themselves, winking out of existence as he watched… and for perhaps the first time, the _only_ time in his life, he felt an urge to help someone other than himself. 

Yes, a moment of insanity. Or humanity. He was never certain.

“TO ME!” he screamed suddenly, flinging his arms out. Underage magic rules be damned, he let his mind focus: calling, commanding. The Aertzin hovered uncertainly in mid-air, and every soldier turned in his direction. Even River; her face pale from blood loss, her lips forming a satisfied smile turned vague, as she toppled over to lie motionless on the ground.

He was surprised when the Aertzin began to zoom in his direction. One alighted on his shoulder, another hovering by his cheek, yet more weaving through his hair. But his command had been too broad… the soldiers were almost on top of him. Their faces were twisted in a macabre pleasure; and Tom could suddenly imagine what he must look like to them.

Small and pale, undernourished even after a year at Hogwarts. No weapons in sight; an easy target. Helpless…

A terrible thought.

“I am not helpless!” The words burst from him, obviously frightening the Aertzin, who never-the-less, clung to him. “I will _never_ be helpless!”

Hogwarts had taught him precise wording and gestures, but sometimes, they weren’t needed. Wand in hand, Tom lashed out to keep them away with whatever came to his mind. A swarm of wasps, a jet of blue fire. A mere thought blocked windpipes until a slew of them fell, clutching their throats; and still he fought, fought because he would win, he would _not_ be defeated…

It was one of the short soldiers that got him. A blow to his stomach; and Tom fell to the ground, his fingers pressed desperately against the wound, blood dripping through his fingers.

“Seems you can be beaten after all.” The soldier grinned at him, pointed yellow teeth sharp as it leaned toward him. “For all your fighting, I think you’ll die here today. Like your friends.”

“Well,” a voice said, “or not.”

Through eyes hazy with pain, Tom managed to look up. The Doctor stood there, hands tucked in his trouser pockets, thoughtfully surveying the carnage.

“Weren’t you dead?” Tom asked, hating how he sounded. Weak. Scared. Words he hated to have associated with himself.

“Oh, it takes more than a blow to the head to kill me,” said the Doctor cheerfully. “Not that I like doing that too often. But you see: my people have a… well, you could call it a trick we can do.”

“You don’t die?” His mind exhausted and body in agony, Tom pressed his fingers against his stomach, wishing that the blood wouldn’t keep welling out like that. Dark red blood, pooling on the pale stone at the mouth of the cave.

“What are you, anyway? You and River… you lied to me, told me you were Muggles.”

“I said that we’re not from here,” corrected the Doctor. “But there’s plenty of other beings in the world besides Wizards and Muggles.

“Such as Time Lords.” He had turned his attention from Tom, surveying the remaining soldiers with a frown. “Because you lot, you know Time Lords, don’t you? Rulers of Time. Watchers of the Galaxy.”

There was a dismayed murmuring among the soldiers, and the Doctor smiled grimly.

“I see you _have_ heard of us. So then, you certainly know me. No, no,” he held up his hand, “don’t all speak up at once. Stop and think for a moment… about stories you may have heard about a kindly protector of so many races and planets that he’s lost count.

“But there are other sides to those stories, aren’t there? The victims praise his name for his help, but those he stopped talk of a man willing to have blood on his hands if it will prevent slaughter of innocents. A man entirely willing to see worlds destroyed, to save the harmless few.”

Tom forced his eyes open to stare up at the Doctor. He’d judged River Song as the stronger of the two; while he’d thought the Doctor a hapless, do-gooding fool. But perhaps he’d been wrong. Despite his calm words and ineffectual appearance, there was a dangerous menace emanating from him. This was not a man to be crossed. 

In fact, not a man at all. Time Lord; never dying. Never afraid or helpless.

“Do you know who I am, now?” He was standing up straighter, taller. A different brand of terrifying to River Song, but no less so despite that.

“Doctor,” Tom croaked. He was vaguely aware of the Aertzin swooping lazily away from him, the darkness of the cave encroaching upon the back of his mind, his eyelids growing heavier.

“That’s right,” said the Doctor. “My young friend here has told you who I am. The Doctor. But what do you think I’ll tell you to do now, if you want to save yourselves?”

He leaned forward slightly, beaming like an avuncular Grandfather at Christmas; which only made his next word that much more frightening.

“Run.”

There was a silence after that, and then a scramble like feet turning away, the hiss of lifeless bodies being dragged through the sand that got softer… softer… 

“Did they just leave?” Tom managed to whisper. The Doctor knelt beside him, touching a hand briefly to Tom’s forehead. 

“Yes. And you… you saved the Aertzin after all.”

Tom shrugged, the movement sending pain shooting down his entire body, his limbs trembling. In the aftermath of the moment, it had been stupid, saving them. He didn’t even know why he had… and this was the result. Bleeding out on a cold stone floor, no hope… a terrible feeling. One he never wanted again… though, dying now would certainly make sure this experience wouldn’t be repeated.

“Want to tell me the Time Lord trick of not dying as a reward?” Tom blurted out. The Doctor chuckled, shaking his head.

“But…” He’d always cursed his mother for leaving him; though it was a bit different now, knowing this was what she’d felt. The pain… he could imagine why she had succumb to this. Given up… but no, there had to be a way out. Something he could do to save himself.

“I could _make_ you tell me,” Tom whispered, looking straight into the Doctor’s eyes. It was hopeless blustering, of course. He hadn’t been able to enter River’s mind; he had a feeling that he’d have just as much trouble with the Doctor… obviously accurate because the Doctor stared back at him, his eyes completely devoid of any emotion.

“No,” he said simply. “I think you’d find you can’t.”

“But I helped you. All of you... I wish I was at school,” Tom said fiercely. “They can do anything with magic. They could heal me… they’d know your little trick.”

“No,” said the Doctor slowly. He glanced away, outside the cave. “They couldn’t. Hogwarts has an excellent curriculum, but even wizards have their limitations. Comes from being human.”

“Time Lord… you’ve not even human?”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it sound.”

“Sounds pretty nice to me, right now. I’m dying, but you’re alive and you’ll get to leave. You’ll get to live.”

Tom closed his eyes. He was twelve years old. Eleven years spent in misery, one at Hogwarts, being happier than he would ever have dreamed he could be. 

“I don't want to die now,” he mumbled in a small voice. Finally, he had something to live for, and he was leaving it. He already had his books for next year… he’d been counting down the days until he could return… Tom opened his eyes again to find the Doctor looking down at him. 

“Everyone dies eventually,” he murmured. “Everything has its time... and sometimes death can be a blessing. Pruning away the sick to let something fresh and new grow...”

It seemed like he was talking to himself more than to the dying child on the floor; and Tom whimpered, not understanding any of what the Doctor meant, and not caring. The blood still oozed sluggishly from his wound beneath his fingers, and he didn't have the strength to keep a firm grip anymore. His cave was blurring in and out every time he blinked, and he was afraid of that last moment... the moment he would close his eyes into darkness and not open them again.

He didn't want to admit it, not even now at the end of his life. The emotion was too pathetic. Too honest.

“But I'm scared,” Tom whispered. He wasn’t crying… he would swear to it even as a tear dripped down his cheek, splashing onto the stone floor. One, then another and another.

The Doctor stared at him, a muscle by his jaw clenching… and then he glanced once more at the entrance of the cave, giving a tiny nod to something unseen.

“Maybe Pandora had it right. Save the last little bit, eh?”

There was that expression in the Doctor’s eyes again. Tom still didn’t know what it was… but the Aertzin distracted him then, reappearing to swoop and dance around him until finally, his eyes drifted closed and everything went away.

For hours and days, there was darkness chased away by a warm golden light; teasing, drawing him out. A fragile thumping sound, two endless beats in succession.

And then the voices drifting toward him. Utterly familiar, yet almost strangers.

“I’m still surprised the Aertzin went to him.”

“They didn’t have much of a choice, sweetie. I was on the verge of passing out, and I was about to crawl to him. That was a lot of power he unleashed. Did you contact the Ministry?”

“Of course. They didn’t like it much… but I’ve got a few contacts that helped. He won’t be charged for the underage magic.”

A long pause. Another flash of golden light; the double beat became stronger.

“I didn’t think they’d save him.”

“Well… they did go to you first.”

Soft female laughter… Tom grabbed onto the sound, forcing his memory to work again. Gun in her hands and honey blonde curls. River Song.

“He almost died,” River murmured. “Did you think about-“

“No.” Emphatically stated and forceful. Tom could remember now. Only the Doctor could sound like that.

“ _Really_? When we know what happens?”

“There was a moment,” said the Doctor slowly, sounding like he was admitting to something shameful. “The thought of what could have changed if it ended here in this cave… it was tempting, River.”

“Then why? Because it was _you_ , wasn't it? Called the Aertzin back to help him.”

“He was scared.”

An impatient sigh. “And you couldn't resist. Your kryptonite, a scared child.”

“Scared and lonely and dying... I know, River. You wouldn't have done it.”

“No.” Another sigh, more resigned. “But I'm not surprised you did, sweetie. Good men and their rules?”

“Well. It was more than that," the Doctor insisted. “Do you remember what I told him? One small line can rewrite history.”

“And did it?”

Tom had to strain to hear the Doctor’s answer beneath the thumping that was growing louder. They were starting to sound like heartbeats. Possibly his.

“There’s something good, even in the worst people, River. So I checked… and much of the story stays the same. But a little here, a little there. Small victories…a person alive where they hadn’t been before. A family kept together a little longer… parents living until their child’s first birthday, rather than dying in the first few hours.”

“I suppose that’s better than nothing.” But she sounded disappointed. The Doctor let out a hearty sigh.

“I didn’t expect much to change. Fixed points; we both knew the final end would stay the same. But for one moment today, there was something selfless, something good… and you know what I think about that?”

“That there are always choices to be made.” Tom could hear the smile in River’s voice, echoed by the Doctor’s next words.

“And therefore: there’s always hope.”

The voices faded out after that, replaced by a thrumming vibration, a sense of drifting weightlessness… and then Tom opened his eyes to find himself back at the orphanage, carefully laid out on his bed. He didn’t remember getting there; didn’t remember falling asleep.

In fact, the last thing he remembered was being in his cave… he lay, staring straight up at the low, stained ceiling, trying to recall the strange thoughts and memories racing dream-like through his mind. 

Intruders in his cave. Golden lights that could heal, being hunted down to extinction. His own act that saved them… the pain that came after, the knowledge that his death was looming over him. 

And the Doctor and River. Ordinary people; yet not so ordinary after all. Both of them powerful and ruthless in their own ways, able to survive. Not to mention: capable of conquering time. Lords who could cheat death… an admirable feat.

Tom closed his eyes again, a small smile on his face as he drifted back to sleep.


End file.
